S P E C I A L I S T
by Rowan'G'Winterlace
Summary: Every magical school has its specialties. Beauxbatons is known for potions and alchemy, Dumstrang for the study of dark magic. But Hogwarts? They produce duelists. Scratch that, as the world will see in the upcoming tournament... Hogwarts produces monsters...
1. Chapter 1

**[START]**

** SPECIALIST  
**

_Chapter 1_

A roar that battered their eardrums.

A quake that rattled their seats.

The eyewatering sent of tepid water, soil and body odour.

A populace of students (once again) blessed by the sight of the twelve foot humanoid being: skin reminiscent to stone in both colour and texture, eyes small and black in its (disproportionately) small head, complete with jagged, tombstone-esque teeth and dirty yellowed nails.

The first of September, a starlit sky glittered above a cloud of flickering, floating candles. Orange light illuminating the ancient stone and oaken tables of the Hogwarts Great Hall, prior mentioned tables pushed to either side of the cavernous room (Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors to the North, Slytherin's and Ravenclaw's to the South).

It was the first of September, the first day of term for Hogwarts students. Meaning, as usual, the Sorting was taking place.

Meaning the latest batch of eleven (and a few twelve) year olds were fighting a mountain troll…

"All to decide what House they will be in." a derisive, feminine voice. The speakers nostrils curled up at the sight; five minutes up and the beast was being restrained from the girl at its feet. Her leg bent the wrong way, her throat unleashing ever hoarser screams as Madame Pomfrey descended on her; the girl's shaking wand never wavered from its spot, aimed right between the beast's eyes.

"I'm telling you she'll be a Hufflepuff. Don't get that kind of diligence in any other house." Reed thin and smug, a smattering of brown freckles across the bridge of his nose, a head of short bright orange hair atop his head. He sat on her left, their seats looking down on the 'arena' that was sunk into the floor of the Great Hall. Containing the troll, staff and new students; the boy occasionally flicking hazel eyes to the line of petrified first years still waiting for their turn,

"I wouldn't be so sure." Another male voice, dark haired, not quite as freckly and a distinctive Irish burr to his speech. His pointing finger was followed by all to the podium set above and behind the chained and thrashing monster, a gash near the rim of a pointed hat opened wide and unleashed a mighty,

"**Gryffindor!"** Followed by a huge whoosh of a cheer from the house of red and gold, even from the boy who'd just been proven wrong. Even as the dark brows of the boy next to him waggled and he held out an expectant hand, only retreating when a handful of silver coins were dropped into it,

"Easiest five Sickles I've ever made." The raven haired lad smirked, emerald eyes dancing from behind the circular frames of his black glasses, "Nah. Anyone with the guts to jump on a trolls back and stab it with her wand isn't going to be with anyone but us."

He cocked his head to the side with a knowing look at the redhead beside him,

"She kind of reminds me of someone..."

The redhead was sheepish and the brunette girl (for the first time since they'd sat down) allowed herself a hearty little chuckle. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger using the **"**intermission**"** to chat, banter and offer some waved greeting to Melissa Collins, who limped over to the Gryffindor table on her newly healed leg. A distant stare and a little bit of smile on her lips.

An explosive sigh rushed past Harry's pursed lips when she passed,

"Were we _THAT _tiny?" he more murmured that questioned, "I can't believe that was us only a few years ago..."

"It's just… how can they just do this to the Muggleborns EVERY year?!" Hermione hissed,

"Oh, I'm sorry Granger." A snide feminine voice, from a blonde haired Hufflepuff behind them, "Didn't realise that pureblood's and half-bloods didn't have to fight the-"

"Merlin, shut up Abbot!" Ron snapped as they whirled around, Harry right behind with just as little respect for them,

"She's talking about how Muggleborns have absolutely no idea, and no way of knowing, something like this will happen! Not until they get here." He snapped viciously, growing louder and more aggravated with every second he tore into her, "Not everyone grew up in the magical world and had some kind of idea we'd have to FIGHT A TROLL on the first day, you vapid slag!"

Hannah Abbott shrunk back, red face paling to white in the face of Harry's outrage,

'_As she should.'_ The trio turned away from the Hufflepuff girl after her little interruption. Abbot not missing the soft smile from her target as she flicked grateful looks to the boys.

The trio ignored the muttering around them, though they did catch the eye of another friend of theirs in the crowd. Harry smiled at the mousy brown haired boy, quick to call out to him,

"Hey, Colin! Dennis is next right?" He pointed to a tiny boy, with more than a passing resemblance to the boy in the year below, dripping wet in his black robes with brown eyes that looked both terrified and determined,

"Ah, erm, yes Harry. That's Dennis there." Colin Creevey nodded so much and so vigorously that they feared his head would just snap off and roll away,

"Hey mate, take a breath and take it easy." Ron gruffly croaked to him, tactless but effective (as Colin immediately stopped),

"R-Right!"

"There's no need to be worried Colin." Hermione gently supplied, "The teachers won't allow him to die or be seriously injured."  
"Have you told him anything about it?" Harry jerked his head to the chained up abomination,

"Heh. The secrecy oath was annoying, but I've tried to prepare Dennis as best I can for this." Colin's demeanour changed like the flick of switch, shrinking in on himself as he shakily continued, "Though… Mum and Dad just thought I was bullying him."

The trio frowned, and Harry was quick to reach over and grip his underclassman's shoulder. Gently and empathetically telling him,

"You're a great big brother, Colin. Don't doubt that."

The boy's eyes saucer wide, he almost didn't register Ron's addition (an addition that turned his cheeks scarlet and left his insides feeling gooey),

"Wish you were my older brother, mate. You'd think one of my five brothers would have given me some kind of heads up!"

"Didn't the twins explicitly tell you that we'd be fighting a troll?" Harry hummed,  
"Hush boys, it's starting." Hermione hissed, all eyes turning on the latest little first year facing the troll, chains slinking away from around its limbs as it roared and staggered forward, bearing down on young Dennis Creevey...

A Tempus charm was fired into the air by an equally diminutive professor, numbers burnt into existence:

_**5:00**_

_**4:59**_

_**4:58**_

The boy moved quickly at the last moment, lunging aside with a vicious scream of fright. Falling flat on his stomach when the troll's meaty hands slammed down on the place he had just been, the force throwing Dennis up into the air to fall with another_ 'oomph'_,

"C-COME ON DENNIS!" Colin's scream was loud and hoarse, such a loud sound from such a small guy making all around double take, "GET UP!"

He was joined, quite quickly, by the rest of his house. Say what you will about Hufflepuff's and loyalty, but unless that hat said otherwise, little Dennis was one of theirs. And they were going to shower him in support,

"Get up mate!"  
"KICK IT'S ASS!"

"You can do it!"

"Don't give up!"

He staggered to his feet, big brown eyes wide and unblinking. He shivered, and his feet were rooted to the ground he stood upon, the being rolling heavily to its feet with its black eyes narrowing on the chalk white child adjacent to it.

"He's frozen." Ron winced,

"No shit." Dean muttered, resting his chin in his hand and leaning his elbows onto his knees,

Another roar, the room flinching as the beast roared again and made another move on the un-Sorted lad.

The clock fell to _**3:40**_ and instead of dodging, Dennis yanked his wand out of his robes pocket with a fairly familiar spell screamed out in a high, hoarse voice.

Was it luck? Or prodigious skill rearing its head? Whatever it was, the spell seared out of the tip of the dark wooden wand and exploded in a spray of red hot sparks against its dark eyes. An audible sizzling sound could be heard when the sparks hit the trolls eyeballs, as well as a roar just as bestial and primal as all the others, but clear agony present in every second of the sound.

"Oooh, he can already cast sparks!" Hermione hummed impressed as the boys smirked,

"Going for the eyes, huh?" Ron snickered, just as impressed as Harry and Hermione,  
"Just like his brother." Harry shot a wink at a quickly blushing Colin, "I'm looking forward to seeing him grow."  
Ron and Hermione weren't the only one's who offered sounds of agreement. Those around who heard looked upon the lad, sprinting around and behind the staggering and flailing monster that slapped and clawed at its own burnt retina, hitting the boy with some assessing looks.

The time was cut short by the order of Flitwick, the move counted as a victory and the troll subsequently restrained as the timer fell to _**3:23**_.

"Damn, that was quick." Seamus whistled lowly after a soft comment from Neville,

"Bit close for comfort there, Hermione?" Lavender Brown smirked over at her roommate, flicking her curling brown hair over her shoulder as she weathered a sidelong smirk at her,

"Your record is _**3:50**_, right?" Neville piped up again, flushing a little as Hermione's head snapped to him now, offering a little smile and a nod,

"Yes it was. It's lovely having the shortest time against the troll since Dumbledore, and the shortest time of any Muggleborn in history." Hermione muttered her reply before her brown eyes flicked to the boys beside her with a crooked half-grin, "Unfortunately, a certain someone showed me up that year…"

There was some gentle ribbing to a certain green eyed lad as Dennis was quickly looked over by the frantic school nurse,

"Can we just let it go?" he mumbled to himself, Ron the only one to pick up on it. So, he slung an arm around his best friend's shoulders with a faux commiserating look,

"Oh, forgive us, dear Boy Who Lived." He lamented sarcastically, "It's not like anyone can really forget the only firstie in Hogwarts history who killed TWO trolls in the same year."

Harry sighed and ducked his head,

"You make out as if I did that on my own, Ron."

In that time, Dennis had jogged over on shaky legs, waving and smiling at his seated brother.

"Hey, Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat and indicating at his still soaking robes, "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" Colin replied, just as excitedly (just a little bit of a shake in his voice). Though he was just as invested and involved in his brother's excitability, his entire being glowed with love and relief. The older boy clutching the grinning firstie to him, "I-It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, bright faced and eyes wide. The two descended into a mile a minute conversation that the others just left them to, attention returning to the troll and its next victim.

Hermione would forever think it was a barbaric way of treating children, especially those who had just entered the world.

Ron thought similarly, though he just wished it could just be over already. He wanted to eat, sleep and pretend it didn't happen for another year.

And Harry, his attention split between the hugs and happiness of the Creevey's, the open acceptance of Melissa and the other new members of the Houses. Focussing more on the relief, the smiles and the open acceptance. A certain camaraderie borne from everyone facing a twelve foot mountain troll on their first day, a real conversation starter.

Helping them all, Harry thought with a smile and a warm feeling in his heart, actually feel like a family (as McGonagall had promised all those years ago).

The next roar drew the stragglers attention, reluctantly, back to the troll and its next foe. The Sorting beginning again…

**[TO BE CONTINUED]**

* * *

_I CAME UP WITH THE PREMISE OF THIS STORY TO ADD ONTO A HAREM STORY..._

_I decided to drop the first chapter of this here to see if you guys are interested whilst I work on the plan of Sweet Bonding and the next few chapters of The Get Together._

_Have a good day and tell me what you think?_


	2. Chapter 2

**[START]**

**SPECIALIST  
**

_Chapter 2_

Tables were moved then filled with food, students re-seated and invited to stuff their faces after the rather… interesting day they'd had. The (_incredibly_) still alive troll wheeled off to wherever it went between September Firsts.

Announcements were made following the vanishing of dessert...

The usual set of disinterested reactions to the announcement of the list of contraband and the forbidding of entry into the Forbidden Forest. As usual, only the newcomers took it seriously...

Then the outrage rolled through the room as a response to an announcement that the Quidditch Cup was suspended for the year. Harry and Ron (in their own fury) noted that even Hermione, one of the few staunchly against the dangerous sport, seemed miffed and ruffled at the announcement.

"This decision was reached to make way for an… addition to our school year. A response to an event to be precise." The announcement delivered by the aged Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore. A tall, narrow man stylised by his purple robes (with a matching, pointed hat) and long white beard he tucked into the waistline of his clothing, "An event a few of you may remember occurring just prior to the end of the previous semester."

A hum of chatter and whispering rolled over the room.

The majority of course did remember, courtesy of the sparse coverage in the Daily Prophet and the (far superior) rumour and gossip mill perpetuated within Hogwarts Castle.

That being: _The Paris attack_.

…

_The year 1994, the time of year being early July. The sun in the reddened sky (as said star slowly dropped below the horizon) casting long, low shadows as the dying light hit the Parisian buildings._

_But it was below Paris where the event was taking place, ancient catacombs omitted from maps and hidden from the Non-Magique. Centuries of spells and expansion lead to another (comparably) beautiful city hidden right underneath the one on the surface._

_The event was a Debate Conference, held between the three big European schools held in a concert hall. The auditorium lit by glowing golden orbs that lazily buzzed and floated around like giant fireflies._

_The Beauxbaton's team was a quartet of young ladies of varying ages, ranging from fourteen to eighteen. Stood prim and tall beside their dark haired professor, whose sunken eyes were tiredly and irritate glaring up at the podium from their place off to the side. One of them fanning themselves with their periwinkle trilby hat whilst her elder classmate checked her nails and smirked at a comment her classmate hid behind a cough._

_The Dumstrang team, still snuggled up in their thick red fur line cloaks whilst in their seats, were a lot more attentive than their French counterparts. The oldest member of their team (a dark haired female) actually leant forward and levelling an almost unblinking gaze on the speaker as her comrades of the day were furiously taking notes on rolls of parchment floating in front of their faces._

_The Hogwarts team were the ones speaking. Stood on the elevated stage before a crowd of just under a hundred guests (almost looking like a dozen from on the stage, from the vast amount of empty plush red chairs). A trio of students sat beside their teacher, humming to herself in her pointed hat and tartan robes. _

_The speaker on the podium (the fourth member of the Hogwarts team), carving out their scripted introduction in regard to their position on the safety of Quidditch in schools, was none other than the current Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Percival Ignatius Weasley._

_Percival (better known as Percy) was sick and tired of his family and friends disregard for his interests, many of them being reading, current affairs and politics. Unsurprising when one recognised that Percy wished to be a politician._

_So, forgive him for joining the debate team (though he did feel a level of smugness when remembering little Ron's reaction to his free trip to Paris). Forgive him for researching subjects like the thickness of cauldron bottoms and the risk and safety involved with it (and the like). He was sorry that he was the most 'boring' of his siblings, or just a plain nerd._

_But that was who he was._

_At least… when his wand remained unsheathed._

_A __**KRAKOOM**__ shook the hall from the entrance to the room, cutting Percy off midsentence as a yelp of surprise involuntarily ran up his throat. He leaped back off of the podium and was not able to react fast enough to the tell-tale CRACK of apparition at his back before a wand was pressed to his temple and a rough, gloved hand firmly gripped his left shoulder._

_It was French, not a language he was fluent in, but Percy recognised the order not to move. Hearing similar gruff voices behind him, where his teammates and teacher sat._

_His brown eyes fell before him, to the figures rushing into the concert hall. Black hooded cloaks and masks more appropriate to a masquerade ball rather than… whatever crime was being committed here._

_They were dragging people from their chairs and holding them at wand point, but whatever they were saying Percy could not catch. They were speaking too quickly for Percy's shaky French to recognise._

_So, in reply, Percy's hand snaked out faster than the figure holding him could follow, finding the wrist of their wand arm and yanking the wand away from the young man's own face._

_A sharp shift of his hips and shoulders and allowing both of his arms to follow through with the movement, saw Percy flipping the stunned attacker over his shoulder and flat onto their back. Here the man's own shoulder was forcefully and savagely dislocated; Percy planting his foot on their shoulder and pulling that arm until, __**POP**__!_

_He hadn't drawn his own wand yet, so Percy had been forced to 'disarm' his assailant a little more literally._

_Percy was very disappointed in himself for that particular train of thought…_

_The young man briefly scolded himself for his weak reaction time, briefly lamenting not taking the classes on real-life-scenarios that Flitwick had been offering in his sixth year. Wondering, absently, if his knowledge on the laws of 'creature trafficking' would remain a worthy trade off?_

_He allowed himself a quick glance to his compatriots and was both relieved and unsurprised to find their own assailants just as severely dealt with, as Professor McGonagall (their own teacher-escort) was quickly ushering young Miss Chang off to the side as Penelope and Roger moved to hop off the stage in search of their next opponent._

_In that moment, he wasn't nerdy Percy Weasley. He was just MAD and bloodthirsty, following the two Ravenclaws with a look of sadistic satisfaction he could barely keep from consuming his face._

_Not only was he the Head Boy and the Captain of Debate team, he was one of the Gryffindor Prefects. Meaning he was recognised one of the Strongest Gryffindor of his year. Strong enough to keep the other little ones in line and out of trouble. _

_Because of this, in the face of the absolute hellions his younger brothers were, the stalking of a Basilisk through the halls of his school the year before and the constant buffoonery and near-murder/manslaughters he had to break up in the halls of Hogwarts castle… something about this scenario felt a tad mundane._

_Granted he was still furious, heart hammering away like a demented blacksmith behind his ribs, __body flushing a glorious heat. But he was just furious that the event he'd been preparing for, his speech and discourse a year in the making, was interrupted by some Death Eater wannabe's in their cheap, tatty cloaks and discount masquerade masks._

_He led with a Bombarda, wand rolling into his grip by virtue of a concealed wrist holster, hurling two would-be-assailants off of their feet in a spray of shattered wood and dust. He followed it up with another, then another, brutal explosions following every rapid flick of his wand. Tearing up furniture and snapping bone._

_His dear Penelope conjured sentient ribbons that bit and coiled like vipers, drawing blood and screams whilst a bemused smile settling on her little lips. The majority of her victims were those who, instead of hurling curses form afar, made to get in close. Thus, they were ensnared and choked into unconsciousness by an unsympathetic Head Girl._

_And Roger, quick to hit them with disfiguring hexes of a variety of colours that had them shrieking a clutching at wherever said spells landed with shrill and echoing agony. His aim was unparalleled and his speed blistering, going so far as to snipe many of Percy's own targets out of the air as they were sent hurtling off their feet._

_The situation was over faster than it had started, with what few attackers still conscious begging the responding red cloaked Auror's to save THEM, in the face of the trio of black robed Brits sipping away at bottles of water and consoling their younger teammate (upset for she couldn't legally take part)._

_An aura of terror still hanging over the room as they were dragged away, directed at the other guest's saviours rather than their assailants. Many not even willing to look the three of them in the eye as the mediator inquired if they wished to continue the conference. _

_But that was to be expected of course._

_They were Hogwarts students after all…_

…

"Ladies and gentlemen, I must admit to my own folly." Professor Dumbledore lamented after a brief play-by-play of the events two months prior. Expressions of intrigue and surprise were present of a few of the staff members faces, as well as the addressed students before he continued with a subtle guilty twinge to his words, "My esteemed peers in the from of Headmistress Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff discussed the unfortunate occurrence. Leading us into a discussion of our respective students."

His pause, many would late acknowledge, was likely scripted. But none would begrudge their eccentric Headmaster's love of theatrics,

"It would appear that Headmaster Karkaroff was quite insistent that his students could have handled the situation… more efficiently than our own." There were a few shouts of aggravation, many coming from the Ravenclaw table where Roger Davis sat visibly outraged. Dumbledore allowed them a knowing and sympathetic look, "And, I'm afraid to say, dear Madame Maxime was quick to boast alongside him."

"Where do you think he's going with this?" Ron muttered into Harry's ear before receiving a sharp kick under the table,

"Shush!" Hermione.

"And thus, I offered them a wager of sorts." The man continued, ignorant of this. He let his words hang, a clear gesture made for naught more than dramatic effect (which caused a few snickers and eyerolls from his staff at the table with him),

"Ahem, on the first of October we will play host to delegates from the esteemed Beauxbatons Academy and the Dumstrang Institute." He was almost grim in his delivery, "Where they will take part, against us, in the inaugural Tri-Wizard Duelling Contest!"

A brief pause preceded a buzz of enthusiasm felt nigh unanimously amongst the student body, Dumbledore's voice mirrored this bout of euphoria in the jovial lilt that lifted his voice,

"Yes, we shall see the truth behind the schools respective Heads words. In the form of friendly competition."

"What's in it for us!"

A brave soul, a female voice cutting through the silence and followed up by equally interested inquiries of the same nature. Professor Dumbledore held up a hand to halt them and continued in a tone befitting an enthused anouncer,

"The prize? Eternal glory! Self-satisfaction! A place to showcase and develop your skills!" Muttering began anew. He was losing them, students enthusiasm sieved out of them enmasse until they were faced with the purposeful smirk that twisted up the corners of the headmasters lips, "And, of course, a prize of five thousand galleons for the winner."

The wing beat of a fly could have been heard in that heavy silence, students staring up wide eyed at the white haired man. Uncomprehending of the ludicrous amount,

"With slightly smaller prizes for second and third of course…" A flippant addition. Dumbledore made a show of wafting it away with his hand.

An explosion of noise hit the room like bomb blast. Shouts, cheers or more hushed and measured responses abound.

Five thousand galleons, enough to buy a house! To win such a ridiculous amount of money in a schoolyard duelling contest, with comparable amounts for second and third? UNHEARD OF!

There were few, when Professor Dumbledore had them quit again and paying attention, that DIDN'T have intentions of entering.

In a school like this, it was the deal of a lifetime.

"So, I reiterate, the first of October is when we will be meeting out guests. Greet them, welcome them. I wish for you to make incredible new friends and forge powerful new bonds in your shared experiences within this castle." The grandfatherly smile did not drop or fade one iota during his speech, even as he began to inflect a small air of pride and smugness into his next few lines, "As well as this, I want you to show them the might of our school's curriculum and the power you wield. I request that you crush them so absolutely that they never doubt your skills and prowess ever again."

That grandfatherly smile finally slipped away, what settled on the old mans face was almost sinister, jubilant and downright eager, sapphire blue eyes glittering in sadistic glee as they took in the enraptured, determined and equally manic looks of his precious student body,

"Do you think you can manage that?" He sneered his inquiry.

And the explosion of screams to the positive were music to the old Headmasters ears.

**[TO BE CONTINUED]**

* * *

_Thank you for all the interest and support on the first chapter, it was a big motivation to get this out as fast as possible. I hope I don't let any of your expectations down x_

_To anyone who reads these, this was originally going to be the prologue. The idea stemmed from an idea I got from reading a manhua with a similar premise to this fic._

_The idea being: __**What if Percy Weasley was actually a badass duelist and, yet, was still the lamest and most irrelevant member of the Weasley family?**_

_Not all of that got transposed here, but the idea that Hogwarts was this school that made even the likes of Percy a veritable powerhouse wouldn't leave me alone._

_Hope you enjoyed this update x_


	3. Chapter 3

**[START]**

**SPECIALIST  
**

_Chapter 3_

"Bullshit! This is just bullshit!"

An angry declaration from the dark haired lad who had flopped down on his bed the minute he'd found his trunk at the foot of it. Face contorted in fury whilst screaming invectives towards the canopy above, Seamus Finnegan far from impressed,

"Yeah, you can't just dangle a prize that big and then say only seventeen year old's can go for it. BS." His best friend agreeing, Dean crouching in front of the trunk he was fiddling with before pulling out a familiar glossy poster and a small, rattling container of thumb tacks. The dark skinned boy offered a grateful smile to Ron when the boy crossed the room with a hand out, the two quietly muttering to one another as the others continued the conversation,

"I suppose it makes sense." More of a murmur from the somewhat pudgy, blonde haired boy in the room. Neville sat crossed logged on his bed with a Herbology tome as thick as his head open in his lap. He was met with a few stares from his dorm mates before Seamus piped up again,  
"Don't tell me your taking Dumbledore's side, Nev?!" Playfully incensed, a little upset when Neville's head quickly bowed to his chest and his cheeks flared pink. Nobody happy the shy boy took Seamus a seriously,

"N-No, I just... can see where they're coming from, that's all..."

Jumping to his defence came Harry, who also sat on his bed with a book. Though he was writing in his small leather bound journal with a black, self-inking quill when he piped up,

"Yeah, it's likely to keep the firsties and second years from getting injured. The difference in skill between each year is pretty scary." Harry more mumbled his own addition as he fiddled with his comforter, missing Neville's grateful smile.

Seamus' scoff was likely a lot louder than he meant it to, and although a long second of silence settled over the room (all eyes on him) that lasted until it became tense, he felt no reason not to snarkily respond,

"Not surprised YOU aren't too bothered by it." Seamus snorted as he sat up, glaring a bit with dark eyes, "Big Boy Who Lived, rolling in his sponsorship and family money as he is. I bet five thousand is just pocket change, huh?"

Though he remained seated, Harry looked tense enough to hurl himself across the room at Seamus (his target looking just as hostile),

"All my money goes into my school stuff or is locked away until I turn seventeen. So try again, dickhead." Harry snapped back, teeth grinding and little sparks flying off of his fingers as he spoke.

"Easy you two." Dean, ever the peacemaker, stepping back from the hanging of his Aston Villa poster to physically step between the two boys. The pair immediately backing down, though Harry shot one last glare and Seamus bit back a scowl, "It's the first day back, Seamus, knock it off."

Seamus looked betrayed and stalked off into their bathroom, the sounds of him slamming around the room before furiously brushing his teeth were heard by all,

"I'm going to head back downstairs." Harry sighed after looking away, firmly closing his book and tossing it into his trunk,

"Wait up, I'll come too." Dean quick to stop him and even quicker to set up his living space. though, he turned his head to the last boy in their dorm and the only one of them who'd changed into sleepwear, "I'm surprised you didn't apply to be a mentor, too?"

Ron was slipping out from behind the curtains of his four poster, shooting a withering glare in Seamus's general direction before being addressed by Dean,

"Yeah, I'm... not the type you'd want around a bunch of firsties." His ears flushed red a little as he stumbled a bit through his words, "And besides, I've got a bunch of projects to work on this year, anyway. Don't need the distraction."

"Is that why you weren't too bothered about the competition?" Dean hummed his response more to himself than to Ron,

"How is the alchemy going by the way? Things seemed alright at the Burrow but I didn't know if it was okay to ask whilst I was there." Harry's words were a bit quiet, making it a little difficult for Dean and Neville to piece together what he said (by design of course),  
"Eh, it's alright. Mum and Dad are still a bit proud and don't like the idea of taking money from their kids." Ron stretched is arms above his head and unleashed a roar like yawn, "Heard from Bill that a lot of its ended up in some Gringott's savings account until after I graduate."  
His lips thinned and Harry regretted bringing it up, Ron's eyes flicked to him as Harry formed the first syllables of his apology,

"Don't. You didn't say anything you need to apologise for." he was firm and serious, though he offered a smug and knowing smirk at Harry's pink cheeks and bashful expression.

A few minutes of chatter occured before Neville decided to turn in and Dean and Harry made for the stairs. As they exited the room (and Ron slipped into the bathroom) they heard a sharp,

"So yeah, Seamus. A word-" that almost made them turn around and intervene.

"I'm too tired to deal with that. And Seamus kind of has it coming."  
"Still don't like people fighting my battles for me."  
Dean chuckled, slung his arm over Harry's shoulders and pulled him in close,

"Then just wail on him yourself tomorrow, when Duelling opens back up."

They entered the Common room smiling after that.

"Ah that looks like the last of them!" An announcement given by Lydia Murk, a dark haired young lady who tied her hair back in a high ponytail (showcasing a forehead and face dominated by acne and freckles), she wore a gentle smile and flicked said expression between the first years huddled up on the sofa's and chairs by the larger fireplace and the vague horseshoe shape of older students that had formed around them, "Okay kiddies, off you pop to your dorms and we'll have you here bright and early in the morning to meet your mentors."

They were dismissed, curious expressions levelled towards the fourth year and above students that slowly took their seats. Harry noted a few whispers and points in his direction and chose to ignore them, instead focussing on sandwiching himself between Dean and Katie Bell on his preferred sofa,

"To all you newbies to the program, thank you for signing up to the mentor program." Lydia's eyes glittered with genuine enthusiasm, rolling back and forth from her heels to toes as if she were about to leap through the ceiling, "As you're aware, you'll be receiving an increased stipend of ten credits a weak to your student account for as long as you are an active part of the scheme. And you can reach out to any members of staff or the prefect team for more information or support."

Lydia indicated to her colleagues around the room, sitting or standing where appropriate before flicking her wand and levitating a small, upturned tophat towards them.

"Really, another hat?" Alicia Spinnet snidely offered and was met with a few snickers around the room, Lydia just rolled her eyes and ignored her,

"Picking names out of a hat, ladies and gents." She enthusiastically crowed, "Now, most of these are for the first years, though a few are the seconds and thirds whose mentors graduated last year. Please be kind to them."

The hat bobbed up and down before settling in front of Katie to Harry's left. She dipped her hand in first and slipped out a folded scrap of parchment, Harry dove in next with Dean leaning over him to get his turn. The hat floating away with a bit of a flourish to the next seat.

Unfolding his parchment, Harry immediately smirked down at the name, questioning fate once again,

**_Dennis Creevey_**

"Wonder what Colin will think?" he hummed to himself and stuffed the parchment into his pocket. Missing the inquisitive expression on Katie's face but not escaping the smirk that curled up Dean's lips, "Not a word."  
Unperturbed by his harsh hiss,

"Never said anything." He snickered.

"Who did you get?" Katie whispered her question. They (as a trio after Dean leaned forward to get involved) flicked glances around, especially Lydia, before swapping parchment slips around,

"Natalie Macdonald? Surprised she made it into Gryffindor to be honest." Katie hummed as she shoved Dean's slip into Harry's waiting hand, "She struck me as a Slytherin."  
"She nearly 'struck me' when she levitated that bench." Dean sniffed, a charming grin lighting up his face as the two of them levelled him with a flat glare each, "Doesn't matter though, she'd pretty cute to be fair. Got lucky."  
"She's the one with the curly black hair, right?" Harry got a nod, then nodded himself and snuck a look over at Dean where Katie's slip still sat, "Who's Romilda Vane?"  
"The Chairwoman of your fan club."

Harry was left with a sour expression as the hat did its rounds, everybody took one and it glided back to Lydia's hands where she plucked out one for herself,

"Hmm, looks like there's still two left over to dole out." She spoke loudly, though it seemed she hadn't meant to as she flushed a little bit. A famliar hand shot up and Lydia was quick to shoot it down,

"Sorry Miss Granger. As it's your first year on the program you can't be assigned more than one mentee." Harry noted the dejected look on her face before hurling a little smile her way. Returning his attention to the room at large as Alicia eagerly accepted another mentee and Cormac McClaggen was reluctantly assigned the last one.

Brief talks about the responsibility of their position and a talk about credits followed. Eventually they were dismissed for the evening and told when to be back in the morning, a few staying to natter but Harry slipped back upstairs, knackered and ready for bed.

After the nightly ablutions (Dean coming back part way through) he slipped into bed and snuggled into the familiar feeling of home.

"Hey Harry?" Tentative and gruff, Harry groaned a little into his pillow and weighing up whether he even wanted to respond to Seamus,

"Yeah?"  
"I'm sorry, alright?"

Harry sighed, sub audible and tired,

"Yeah, me too."

Sleep quickly found the two of them, the fourth year dorm silent of everything other than Ron's nasally snores.

* * *

_Thanks for reading guys and all the support thus far. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the story going forward._

_See you next time x_


	4. Chapter 4

**[START]**

** SPECIALIST**

_Chapter 4_

Harry twirled his wand between his fingers, holly wood spinning between narrow fingers, reminiscent to the way someone would fiddle with a pen of pencil. As it always did, a lance of warmth rushed up his fingers and leaked up his arm,

**_«Punch» _**A sharp thrust of the wand and a sharp hiss of a command, almost as if the holly wood in his hand were some sort of spear or blade. Shearing through the space and unleashing a mere ripple through the wind, unless you were looking for it, it would remain unseen. Though in Harry's mind, it was as if he had unleashed a battering ram the size of a redwood, barrelling into the **'**face**'** of his target and flattened it to dust against the far wall. He twirled his wand again, watching the beheaded behemoth fall as he jogged backwards in retreat, the decapitated goliath (a hulking mass of humanoid stone, towering above the teen) collapsed at his feet with a **'**_BANG_**'**.

Harry bit back a sneeze as he got a face full of dust.

He sneezed anyway.

A dusty floor, weeds inching their way up between the cracks in the cobblestone, further cracked by the force of the fallen figure. Sunlight tinted green as it passed through leaves and stained glass still clinging to its broken panes; the wind whistled through near empty windows and gaps between the dishevelled and near ruined buildings around him.

Given a moment to breath, Harry let his gaze flit to the North as he took a seat on the shattered and non functional fountain. The boy restraining himself for flicking away the debris with his wand (a waste of magic) as he let his eyes fall on the distant towers of Hogwarts Castle, magnificent, glorious and very much deserving its place as the center-piece of Hogwarts City...

He rubbed a hand across his lightly perspiring forehead and brushed further grime off of the knees of his baggy trousers, casting a furtive, unsurprised eye at the utter carnage at his feet.

Nothing but dust and stone. Many a piece of stone still relatively humanoid, for Harry had not taken to completely shattering them. Boulders shaped like people, people whose sizes dwarfed Hagrid's.

The silence over this precinct was stiffling, always warranting a second glance over the shoulder and a wary hand on the wand. As it should, these ancient, empty buildings intermingled with the equally old trees and shrubbery, the two having grown in, around and ontop of each other. Nevermind that the building were an extension of Hogwarts itself, this was still the Forbidden Forest out here...

Harry, once again, twirled his wand between his fingers, slashing it viciously (and without warning) up from his hip to above his head with another dark sounding hiss. A crescent of pinkish, red (reminiscent to a branch with multiple twig-like offshoots) hurtling towards one such humanoid shape that had twitched in a way that Harry disapproved of. NOW destroyed as it slumped in multiple shattered pieces.

He twirled his wand between his fingers.

Twirling his wand was a bad habit, something he was quite consistently reprimanded for by Flitwick.

"If you have time to fiddle with your wand, finish off your target!"  
A harsh bark that made him jump, his gaze quick to snap off to his right and noted the four foot, at best, man by the name of Professor Filius Flitwick. The Charms Professor having seemingly appeared in the cobbled side street leading back towards the castle proper.

Harry noted his professors worried gaze with a raised brow, but a shadow fell over him and he knew immediately why it was present. He felt a disturbance of wind and noise, Harry quick to preemptively reply to what was about to happen; having the gall to twirl his wand between his fingers once more,

**_«Halt»_** Swift arm and wrist movements painted a square of lime light above his head. Light unfurling and expanding like a glowing umbrella, awaiting the next colossi's strike against him.

Not only did the colossal, stone hand NOT flatten him to the stones beneath his feet (as Flitwick surely worried it would), but the wrist and palm cracked and splintered against the ceiling of light Harry had conjured. The force reverberating up the being's body and stagger back from its would be victim.

Harry followed it with a sharp glare and a much tighter grip on his wand, long strides flowed by a sharp cleave of his wand through the air,

**_«Reap»_** A blade of crimson red, reminiscent to the blade of scythe to the few who were fast enough to perceive it, crossed the space between Harry and his target. The blade scorched a path through the stone goliath's wrist and split the already damaged limb in two, **_«Punch»_**

No bright colours or pretty shapes with this spell, no intricate movement of the wand. Harry raised his arm, glared at his target and spat out the spell and blew a hole right through the face of the being before him.

It slumped and fell apart.

The BANG of Harry's spell echoed through the air, sound bouncing off the shattered masonry as it dissipated into silence. Near silence at least, the wind whislting through the gaps in the buildings and rustling the leaves. Harry Potter finally left alone with his Charms professor and the mess he'd made,

"Good morning, Professor." He offered the minute man a polite bow at the waist (as he'd read was appropriate), "I hope you had a good summer."  
He smiled and his expression was mirrored by Flitwick, the professors moustache twitched a bit as he engaged his student in a little small talk as he distractedly cleared up the rubble and reconstituted the shattered buildings and features without taking his eyes off of the boy. Said boy seeing this for what it was...

A display of power.

Silent casting, minimal wand movements, all whilst holding a detailed conversation with him as he spoke about how he spent time with his 'sire' (his goblin father) and extended family in Portugal.

A shiver ran through Harry in response.

"So, would you care to explain what you are doing out here so early?" Flitwick's expression was the right mix of stern, disapproval and amusement to let Harry know: no detention but maybe a loss of House Points,  
"Ah, my apologies Professor." Harry was just a little sheepish, "I was trying out some new evocations that I'd been working on this summer. I have a mentor meeting in a few hours and couldn't wait to try them out any longer."

"A mentor, hmm? Congratulations." Genuine praise, even though Flitwick's eyes glimmered teasingly, "I'm sure you'll do well. Back on track, however, those spells did look rather dangerous."  
It was Harry's turn to smirk a bit; fear and apprehension, Flitwick was clearly uneasy in the face of the devastation that Harry had wrought,

"I'm sure you can see why I wanted to test them in private?" He tried to keep the smugness out of his voice (the gaunt, greasy haired visage of the man who would call him 'arrogant' helping there), "I need to learn how to regulate the spells power and effects before I think of using them on other people."  
It was Harry's turn to feel a little uncomfortable, Professor Flitwick's gaze quickly snapping to him, dark eyes immediately searching and wary. Though they softened just a bit afterwards and Harry was able to offer a loopy smile,

"I suppose." He smiled again before quickly switching back to 'business', "Well, be that as it may. It is far too early to be duelling, Mr Potter. Especially in the Forbidden Forest."

Flitwick crossed his arms and levelled a glare at Harry here, the boy gulped and shook his head,

"Sorry Professor, I was just excited at being able to go into the Forest." Harry flushed with a lopsided grin, scratching at the back of his head, "At least, on my own."

I will let you off this time alone, but do not work out here outside of curfew again. Is that understood?"

He agreed and allowed himself to be ushered out. Offering a cheeky little wave as he trotted down the dim corridor (the sun's light not yet lighting them as it slowly lit the sky) off towards the Gryffindor dorms once again.

About fifteen minutes is what he'd spent in there, he would have cursed at the utter waste of his time... had that interaction not gone ABSOLUTELY to plan.

_'The professors monitor the city, even this early.'_ Harry peeked down at his small, analogue watch (a _'gift'_ from the ever growing pile of Dudley's cast off's) and noted four twenty seven on its surface.

So Harry smirked a bit as he upped the pace and rushed towards the Castle, his journey leading him past dusty, empty building and rooms. Flitting past the occasional spot of litter and a few cleaner buildings (ones he knew were used for classes from time to time) before bolting past the greenhouses to the castle itself in a dead sprint.

When he hit the moving staircases, Harry decided against going up as he initially planned, but down,

"I'll have to practice the big stuff down there, then..." The quiet reasoning under his breath, a satisfied smirk on his lips...

**[TO BE CONTINUED]**


End file.
